The Weight of Words
by PinkWhirlWind
Summary: Duo's on a mission that goes wrong, gets trapped in a building and haunted by a ghost


Author: Nix Winter  
  
Category: Angst, Supernatural, Romance  
  
Title of fic: The Weight of Words  
  
Pairings in fic: 1+2, 3+4  
The Weight of Words  
Laying on his belly, on the gravely out crop, Duo Maxwell snapped electronic images of this hotel. Wars weren't fought with explosions alone. As much as Duo loved piloting Death Scythe, loved the power and just the feeling of G force, fucking up Oz without having to actually break any bodies was pretty cool!  
  
He had a photo of at least two Oz officials with pretty young companions who were most defiantly not relatives! It would be worse if the were relatives anyway. Then there was the sweeper guy who wasn't supposed to be here either. With only two more days till the guys could extract him, what he'd expected to be a mountainously boring mission was turning out to be a surprise a minute. Howard was gonna flip when he saw who was sleeping with OZ.  
  
He sneezed, but muffled the sound against his black sleeve. Okay, so maybe laying outside on the bare ground wasn't such a good thing for one's health. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, blinked irritated eyes, then went back to the photo shoot. The fancy telephoto lens on his camera zoomed right into bedroom, into the unsecured open briefcases of overconfident Oz fools. Occasionally, it went right into their bathrooms, if they were cute. One just never knew! There could be some vital bit of information in there!  
  
The memory on his camera beeped that it was full again. It would take him over an hour to go back to the secure location to transmit. He'd lose all the rest of the pics for the day and some really interesting people were starting to show up. He debated. The real reason for this little party might become obvious soon, and he wanted pics of it. He could just transmit the data from his current location, dump the data and have an empty memory card to work with for the evening. Heero would kick his ass for not going back to the safe point to do it, but it was also real possible that Quatre or Trowa would be on duty at the safe house and then there wouldn't be any problems with him transmitting from where he was. Well, as long as the people he was spying on didn't hear the signal. So he debated the value of the risk. His finger sat on the send button for another half a breath. They needed to know what was going on down there, who was here. The mission was to find out and get the If Heero got pissed, there were other places to hang out for a while!  
  
Fifty pics later, two plain clothes-ed specials came out the front door carrying tracking equipment, the small black boxes of doom. Duo made a face at them as he zoomed in on the screens, then up at one face then the other. Twins? Staring, he snapped several more photos. Heero's twins, now that was something big! Quickly, he pressed send again. Cursing like a street rat, he powered down his camera. The transmission was through though.  
  
One of them pointed in his general direction and the whole risk thing took on a completely different perspective. Anticipating getting away clean, having to explain himself to a self-righteous Heero appealed a lot more than getting arrested again did. With nervous fingers, he pulled out the memory module. He had transmitted, but not erased those last photos. If these guys were anything like Heero, anything more than looks, it was gonna be a bitch to lose them.  
  
Leaving the camera there on the ground, he took off through the ruins, both away from the hotel and away from his safe point. He'd lose the goons, the go back to wait for extraction.  
  
They chased Duo into heart of the ruined section of colony. He pressed back against a partially standing wall and listened for them. He half doubted they were human! Perfect soldiers, like Heero maybe? Blinking, he finally figured out what this meeting was about, why there was so much security on the damn thing, what OZ was hiding. He would need more proof than just his gut instinct though. One hand over his mouth, he tried to remain perfectly still, listening to the sound of gravel and ruble crunch under their perfectly timed steps.  
  
After taking a deep breath, he started running again, his braid swinging. Heero clones or not! There wasn't anyone he couldn't run away from. When the pavement hit his face, he didn't realize why he was down. The blood pooling by his shoulder in the second he lay there didn't even register for him. Broken pavement dug into his face, into his other shoulder. Rising back up, blood cooled in spots on his face. His shoulder hung, useless and painless, but throwing him off balance.  
  
He spun around, gripping his arm to his chest. His pursuers, not rushing, advanced with mechanical blue eyes pistols out. Dizzy, he wanted to tell them that Heero already decided not to shoot him, too late now, but he back pedaled, eyes locked on theirs, looking for some of the Heero he knew. Cold, colder than Heero's eyes ever had been. It was perfect logic though. If you can't make a better ms, just breed better pilots. These ones would kill him though, not like his Heero.  
  
Backing slowly away from them, thinking furiously for some kind of way out of this mess, he didn't think they could be bought off for a blow job. Probably weren't even anatomically correct, and he wasn't gonna ask either! Balance deserted him then, his braid slicing through the air as he spun, wrapping around his throat. He fell backwards, good arm reaching, limp one smacking against ruined cement. Cool shadow swallowed him into darkness and ruin, rolling him down rubble strewn stairs.  
  
Unconscious, trailing blood in the dust, he rolled down one last fallen wall and off into blackness.  
  
----  
  
Quatre acknowledge the transmission of data. The photos were pure Duo. He sighed. Bathroom photos, like they really needed to do a diet analysis or something. The first transmission ended without anything useful, and Quatre just knew that Duo was doing something he shouldn't ought to be. Loneliness and an acidic despair had been clinging to Duo lately, but Quatre didn't really know why or where it had come from.  
  
Trowa set a cup of tea down next to him and Quatre smiled up at his lover with a sigh of contentment. Duo was just alone, Quatre thought, though there was a bit of sin in loving someone as much as he loved Trowa when death could take either of them at any time. Love so deep and so silent right now, but after the war, after there was peace, they'd find a new life together. Silently, Trowa brushed his fingers over Quatre's cheek. "Get anything useful?"  
  
"Not yet," Quatre replied, leaning slightly into Trowa's touch.  
  
"Hn." Heero announced his presence with disapproval. The whole room went a bit more proper and chilly. Heero didn't quite have such a chilling effect when Duo was around. It was worse when the braided one was out on a solo mission. Even Wufei had a tendency to be scarce during the few times when Heero was in the center and Duo wasn't. "Second transmission?"  
  
Quatre inked and turned back to the comm console. "Yes," he said, brows drawing down, "How odd. Very small."  
  
Then the photos of the new specials, wearing Heero's face and pointing towards where the shot had been taken from painted onto the screen. "Oh, Duo," Quatre whispered.  
  
Trowa laid a hand on the smaller blond's shoulder. "Is that the only photo?"  
  
"It's the only one that came through clearly. The others aren't clear." Quatre could feel Heero's tension, feel the cold resolve in him and he wondered if the Perfect Solider understood what he felt for Duo at all. Quickly, the little blond worked their computer system. "He's got the memory module still and I can give you a location, but chances are good that if he's being pursued, they'll have the same means we have, Heero."  
  
There was a moment of silence in the room. Logic said Duo'd failed his mission, gotten made and was a liability now. Quatre knew that Trowa would go with him to try to recover Duo, or what was left of him. He felt Trowa's support in the gentle squeeze on his shoulder. "Heero?"  
  
"I will go." Quatre could almost feel the periods at the end of each word. Heero only knew he was angry and confused, but not why. "Move the safe center. I'll contact you when we're safe, usual channels."  
  
"Alright," Trowa replied for both of them.  
  
-----  
  
All sleeps come to an end, and Duo woke, hours later, wishing curses on the world. His first attempt to sit up was thwarted by blood that had dried between his shoulder, shirt, and the cloth of the couch. He grabbed hold of the back of the couch, with his good arm, and pulled. While that freed him, warm trickled down his back again, and his arm hung limply. He licked dry lips. This fucking sucked.  
  
He patted his pocket, to make sure the memory module was there. Heero would come after it. That was good. Nauseous, thirsty, Duo got to his feet, and grabbed the railing on the stairs. From somewhere down below, there was a light, and . music. Odd music, like he'd never heard before, singing some kind of ancient language, bouncy and happy. He swallowed, his mouth so dry it hurt, and started down the stairs, one step at a time.  
  
From the landing, he could see shelves and shelves of books, children's books. The rest of the room seemed to be intact. It was possible, he supposed, that someone would build a children's library into a bomb shelter. "What a fucking time to live in!"  
  
On the last, step, he fell, going down to his knees, which were already bruised. The impact made black stars explode behind his eyes. With a groan, he let himself sink into a sitting position. There was the bit that he'd slipped on, a shimmery dress on . a little stuffed raccoon. He picked it up. It smiled at him, it's electronic eyes blinking. "I want Jamie!" It said, it's little AI coming back from whatever dormant state had reserved its batteries.  
  
Duo set it back on the step, with a silent wish that Jamie was safe and happy somewhere. "Sleep." He said firmly, hoping that was a command the toy would understand.  
  
"Pick me up!" The little furry thing demanded, batting its plastic eyelids. "My name is Ivy! I want to be your friend!"  
  
Laughing Duo wiped his nose again. "No, you don't, not really. See, I'm just Death, ya know?"  
  
"I want to be your friend! What's your name?" The little toy said, cheerful voice. "Can we play together?"  
  
Duo didn't realize tears were filling his eyes, certainly didn't think about why. "Yeah, sure. How smart are you?" He picked the thing up by the strap attached between it's ears and used the railing to pull himself back to his feet.  
  
"Smart," it said, sing-songy, "Smart! We can practice our ABC's! What's your name? My name's Ivy!"  
  
"Duo. Duo Maxwell. I'm Duo Maxwell." He limped forward, moving towards the light. "What is this place?"  
  
A tape recorded voice, of an adult woman's voice sounded from the little toy. "Welcome to the Ivy Geeri Memorial Library. I have left food, water, and medicine here. They are in the office. Please, help others when you can."  
  
Leaning against a shelf of books, Duo lifted the toy, looking at it. "Communications equipment?"  
  
"Please treat others with kindness. Please remember Ivy Gerri."  
  
Duo set the thing on the shelf there. He had enough dead people to remember, really. "Thanks," he said, wishing that the person who left the thing there could hear him, and that there really was food and water.  
  
The light came from the office, a small little lamp set up with a huge battery, with cables that went to some outside energy collection source maybe. The set up was sweet. Around the office though, it looked like some people had lived there, for quite a while, days, a couple weeks maybe. There were little child sized mats arranged in a circle around the lamp and it's battery pack. He crossed a bit more and found a locked box. It was instinct, perhaps, but he just new that's where the food was!  
  
A quick search of the office produced no combination though for the big padlock. Still, there wasn't a lock on the colony, or any other human habitation that could keep Duo out! There wasn't anything else to do anyway while he waited for Heero to come for the memory module. As comfortably as he could, he settled down by the box. He tucked his limp arm between him and the box, and set about trying combinations on the lock, little tongue flickering over his lips.  
  
He didn't see the ghosts. The tall, red headed woman, who held the hands of a couple little children, stood and watched him. The girl tilted her head. "He's just a kid."  
  
"Yeah," the boy said, how had perhaps even been older than Duo when he died. "We oughta help him, uh?"  
  
"He's a solider." The woman said firmly, then sighed. He was just a boy.  
  
"Mama, he's hurt too. I think he's a good solider."  
  
The boy leaned forward, and glared at his sister. "What makes you think that, uh? All soldiers are bad."  
  
"No." The former librarian said. "Not all. We will help him. Dwile, you're about the same size he is, can you see that his pursuers find his 'body'? Alicia go find some books. Perhaps a story would be in order."  
  
Both of the smaller ghosts moved off to take care of their tasks. Their mother, sat down on top of the box and watched Duo. She could see the fever in him, the blood loss. She hoped he was a good person, especially if he were going to be spending a very long time here with them. She wrote the combination to the box in the dust on top of the box and wished him well. Perhaps though, they could save him.  
  
Duo blinked. How could he not have seen the combination right on top of the box? He blinked and rubbed his eyes, glad like hell that the others weren't here to see him right now!  
  
Licking his lips, he got the box open. Water was first! He needed water more than anything else. He hated being thirsty. It reminded him of, he paused, pushed away thoughts, but they came back. It reminded him of the end of Maxwell Church. There were only four bottles though. Well enough for the time until He was supposed to be extracted, that the guys were supposed to come and get him, but what if they couldn't find him?  
  
Looking around the little library office, he got a chill. He knew he'd die. He'd cheated it way too long, and it wasn't like anyone was gonna cry a whole lot when he did, but he didn't wanna die here! He drank the rest of the bottle of water, then found a couple chocolate ration bars. Someday, he was gonna find out what the hell a chocolate was, but it sure tasted good.  
  
Having eaten a little though, had something to drink, he know felt tired, exhausted. "Hey, Sister Helen! You gonna be waiting for me, uh?"  
  
Several of the little pillows tucked up under his head, a thick child-sized sleeping bag, he lay down in front of the box and fell into a solid sleep. It was unfair that the only time he ever slept good was when his life was in imminent danger.  
  
... It took longer than he'd like to get into the damaged colony where OZ's meeting and Duo's mission was. Some kind of demolitions were going on in the area too, and Heero knew he should find out what they were, what OZ was doing.  
  
Medkit on his back though, he tracked the memory chip. Maybe something on that would answer his questions. He'd find the memory chip, then he'd get on with the rest of this mission.  
  
....  
  
Thirst burns when it's angry enough. It made it hard to breath, or perhaps that was his ribs being broken. He couldn't quite remember. One breath, then he next, just concentrating on that was all he could manage. It wasn't like anything really hurt anymore. For that matter, he couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten here. "Father," he wheezed, his eyes tightly closed, talking to Father Maxwell. "I need a drink, please, Father."  
  
It hadn't been so bad before he slept. He was pretty sure of that. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. He was sitting up. That was a surprise. What a baka! He condemned himself thoroughly, as he started to pat down his body, assessing injuries. Hair stuck on something, very irritating. Swelling and dried blood made a mess down the side of his face, but eyes opened and closed, eyelashes brushing against scraped and sore fingers. His lips were dry, parched, peeling Shoulders were okay.  
  
"You're going to die," said a voice, frosty cold and dripping with anger, chill breeze blowing right over his ear. "And I'm going to watch you, just like you watched me die."  
  
Duo tilted his head back. Above him, in shades of gray was one of the most common stars in his nightmares. The guy was a little older than he was, short, neat hair, OZ uniform. Even though he was nothing but shades of gray here, in Duo's nightmares he was always full color, blond hair, gray eyes, and red blood everywhere. He stared at the ghost dazedly. "I'm sorry. Why'd you have to get in my way, uh?"  
  
The ghost ran a very cold hand over Duo's forehead. "I think your back is broken. How does it feel to be the one dying, Shinigami?"  
  
"I'm not going die," Duo said stubbornly, then as if some kind of offering, "I wish I didn't kill you."  
  
"Well, you did. How many have you killed, Shinigami? Death. You are death."  
  
"Yeah yeah yeah," Duo said, continuing on with his self examination. From his chest down, he was buried in books and a rather large bookshelf. Damn, but he didn't remember this thing falling on him. "Yeah, I just love being a worthless piece shit that gets every one I love killed. Oh Yeah, I'm Death. I told you I was sorry I killed you already so, fuck off, Ghost and stay the hell out of my dreams. I'm tired as hell of seeing you die every other fucking night."  
  
"Do I disturb your dreams? I can't dream any more. I'm glad you suffer for your crimes. It was amazing that you come falling into my lover's mother's library. I grew up here, in this place. It was nice then."  
  
"I never fought here before," Duo stated, as if that exonerated him from this particular crime. "Come on. Help me get the damn books off of me. If I die here, I'll just have to share haunting space with you. As you hate me so much, do you really want to spend eternity with me here?"  
  
The ghost actually grimaced. "I should have dropped the bookshelf on your head, you'd have talked less."  
  
"Yeah, well, you and pretty much everyone I know, Ghost-san. What's your name?" Duo started tossing the children's away from where he was pinned. "It's a war, you know. A lot of people are dying. It ain't like I'm gonna live to see the end of the war, but I ain't die if I don't gotta. And just what right do you got being in my dreams? I told you to surrender! And you had to try get the gun away from me, like what was your problem, uh? I hadn't never killed nobody before you, at least not with my own hands." Duo flung a couple more books away.  
  
"You were just a kid I didn't believe you'd shot me. How could you do that? Do know how much that hurt?"  
  
"Fuck yeah," Duo said, finding the book he was trying to throw too heavy, feeling almost like it pinned his hand do the pile. He collapsed to the side, head resting against spilled books. "I've been shot three times since I shot you. Why didn't you stay down? Why did you have to come at me from behind? I was scared, you know."  
  
"So you shot me in the head? You knew you'd kill me when you pulled the trigger, and you make it sound like that's my fault some how. I was afraid that you'd kill my little brother." The ghost nudged the book that Duo hadn't had the strength to move and nudged it off the stack.  
  
Duo turned his head, moving his dry tongue over painful lips. "I'd almost kill myself if you'd get me a drink of water. Did your brother die?"  
  
"He didn't die when you blew up the base. I can't get you water, Shinigami. When you're dead you wouldn't be thirsty anymore. Why did you have to blow up that base? Did it make you feel good?"  
  
Some movement he made set off screaming pain through his legs, over his gut. He tried to hold it in for a moment, but then started howling, sobbing tears, banging his head against the stack of books. There wasn't anything articulate in his sobbing, no pleas or cursing, just wordless howling. It was as if his emotions vibrated against the pain and stirred up a tornado. All the pain from the war, from his loses, from being alone, it all took that door and he howled to the empty ghost filled building. "HEERO!"  
  
Parched lips fell open, hot breath rolling over them, drying them even more as he lay back, done screaming, done almost everything. Would Heero die too if he knew that Duo felt this unnamable need to see him just one more time? As intense as it was, it really didn't last all that long. Hoarse, Duo sank into the books that pinned him. "I'm not gonna die," he growled, his voice hoarse. "I ain't made Heero smile yet."  
  
Even still, Duo's eyelids closed slowly against every effort to keep them open. The ghost frowned, watching his enemy, and waited. This death would free him, he'd move on. With Shinigami's death, he could stop being a ghost. "Die, just hurry up and die," he whispered, chilling the air with his breath and wishes.  
  
....  
  
Heero got to the edge and stared over into the blackness. Even to his eyes there wasn't any light down there, but he could smell air, smell blood. Duo's blood trailed all the way to the edge. There was no way to know for sure that it was Duo's blood turned all black and porous on the broken concrete, but Heero knew it was. He squatted down, picked up a bit of rubble, and dropped it over the edge, counting the seconds till it hit. It hit something soft, soft and bounced though, not soft like human flesh.  
  
Silently, he pulled a small flashlight from his pack and cautiously flashed it over. Stairs, broken but in tact were under the wall, though it was a straight drop from the edge where he was to a couch below. Blood stained the cotton flowered cloth and his mind calculated the amount of blood loss for all the blood he'd seen. Bakayaro. Stupid.  
  
The anger settled like glacial heartburn in his chest, but it was a familiar feeling, anger, just more intense. It wasn't fear. Heero did not feel fear. Pack on his back, he dropped off the edge of the wall, hung for a moment, then dropped down on to the couch. It shifted and creaked. To keep his balance, he crouched down, hiding from potential enemies. He reached out and touched the blood stain, just to see if it was dry, to judge time by. There wasn't any deep horror over it being Duo's blood or anything. He told himself that very firmly.  
  
Foot prints lead away from the couch, down the stairs, then bigger smudges on the last broader stair, like someone had fallen. Heero swallowed, reached behind his back and pulled out a gun. The cold metal of the handle, of the trigger under his finger synced very nicely with his anger, gave it a focus, a way to not think about things that he wasn't thinking about.  
  
"I'm Ivy!" The little raccoon chirped at him. He aimed at it, pistol in one hand, and small metal light in the other now. "Would you like to play ABC with me?"  
  
When he turned back to Duo's footprints, there on the floor was Duo! Same black clothes, face completely smashed in, blood everywhere! Heero's eyes narrowed. Too much blood, but none of it on Duo's white collar? He knew that this body had not been there before. "I do not believe in ghosts."  
  
"Why not," The body asked in a sulky tone, sitting up now. The face wasn't smashed in now though nor nearly as solid looking. "I'm here. You have to believe in me."  
  
Heero considered the logic of that, his face passive. Moving forward, right through the ghost of the boy, he replied, "You're not Maxwell's ghost, in any case."  
  
This was some kind of library with thin little books and toys. It only made sense for the ghosts to be children. Ghosts did not concern him, but that the ghost had pretended to be Duo meant that Duo was here. The anger was different now, warmer, like he was just on the very edge of slapping the shit out of someone.  
  
Footprints in the dust were easy to follow and lead him to the now dark office. Slowly, deliberate action, he scanned his little light over the mess inside. Books were piled on the floor in heaps, a light lay on its side, disconnected from it's power source. There on one book lay a bloody and pale hand, fingers strong and calloused. Heero put his gun away, clicking the snap on the holster. "Maxwell."  
  
A red headed woman appeared next to him, translucent. "Is that his name? Maxwell? I should like to know, you see, sometimes they forget when they die."  
  
Heero glared at her. There was very little point in threatening to kill someone one who was obviously dead. He gave her no reply at all though and slipped his back pack off, carefully crossing with the straps in one hand.  
  
Books slipped under his feet and he hoped he wasn't desecrating any bodies under the heap. Once he got closer, he could see around the tipped bookshelf and be sure. Duo was mostly buried under them. The shelf probably hit his head when it fell. He'd seen so much blood in his life, seen so much of Duo's blood that it shouldn't bother him. His chest was still tight though, at the dried blood on his face.  
  
A chill passed over his shoulders. Urgently, he dropped to his knees and started moving books. There were demolitions going on outside too. It was possible that Oz would blow what was left of this colony to cover up whatever it was they were doing here. The mission had become getting Duo out and Heero didn't bother to sort through it, to decide if that was the right priority or not. There were just some people he couldn't kill.  
  
Duo's breathing rate increased the more books Heero got off of him, until by the time Heero had gotten down to his broken rips, his indented side, he was panting, fast little pants that would have passed him out if he'd been conscious. Heero stopped and glared. Heart attack? What dreams were in his head?  
  
He touched Duo's dry, burning lips and frowned. Fever, broken bones, blood loss, it was going to be hard to move him. "Duo, wake up," Heero said, holding Duo's face between thumb and fingers, willing him to wake. "Wake up!"  
  
Duo had nightmares. Heero knew this, had covered up for it for him before and knew that the pilot of Deathscythe slept better when they shared a room. It was just practical to make sure Maxwell slept better.  
  
"It's better this way," said a new voice, male, calm. "It's very nice that someone who loves him watches him die. I know I'll be able to leave when he's dead. Does he have nightmares a lot? Tell me, does he cry?"  
  
Heero looked up at this new ghost. Oz officer, young, bullet hole in his head, the man was generic, like hundreds that they'd killed. Did Duo cry? Yes. Nightmares? Yes. Duo was his conscious, he thought, the though ripping through his mind. "You're haunting him."  
  
The ghost tipped his head and smiled, death cold lips smooth and slightly blue. "Not for much longer. And then I'll be free!"  
  
Again, I'll kill you didn't seem like a useful thing to say. Heero had his own ghosts and hauntings though, little girls and dogs. When he stayed with Duo though, he realized those didn't affect him as much, Duo was the one that carried the emotion and prices were paid. He frowned and reached down to force blood stuck hair away from Duo's face. "Duo's death will not free you."  
  
"Yes, it will! It will be my revenge! I will be avenged and I can leave!" The ghost laid his hand over Heero's where it still touched Duo.  
  
Duo groaned, his body straining against the books that held him still. "Oww, I'm sorry! Fuck you," Duo hissed between cracked lips.  
  
Heero reached for water from his pack and held the bottle to Duo's mouth, but only succeeded in spilling it into his mouth, making him cough and sputter. When blood came back out with spit up water, Heero felt ... like a black anger that melted away at his heart, turned the air sharp and brittle.  
  
"Let him go."  
  
The ghost rolled his eyes. "Why should I? Let him live and forget and find someone to fuck? Why should he live?"  
  
Mission oriented now, just wanting to get fluid into Duo, Heero wet gauze and pressed it to his lips, letting just a little fluid in. Why should Duo live? What was a good answer to give to their enemy?  
  
The answer for enemies was to kill them, eliminate the threat. Heero glared and ignored the ghost. "You're a ghost, dead already. I will take him and leave. He will live because I will get him medical care and I will see that he lives."  
  
Hissing, glass on a chalkboard, icy wind over Heero's neck, but silence from the ghost. Heero went on ignoring him and decided as he got the last of the books off Duo that maybe the damage wasn't that bad. He'd carry Maxwell out of here and their enemy couldn't do more than give them nightmares. It would be nice if all enemies were that easy.  
  
Heero slipped his backpack back on and looked at the ghost. Sliding one arm under Duo's legs, another behind his back, Heero pulled Duo up out of the book pile. Duo fit in his arms, light and breathing easier as soon as Heero stood.  
  
"I will kill him before you can get him out!" The ghost hissed. "He hates himself as much as I hate him! He'll die in his nightmares! His heart will stop!"  
  
Taking a step back, Heero felt Duo tense, felt the nightmare take a grip on him. What was true was true, and what wasn't wasn't. Heero shifted Duo so that the silver cross fell out of his torn shirt, and hung over his arm. It caught the light and twirled there between the living and the dead. Duo jerked, his breathing going sharp and desperate. Holding him with a tenderness he wasn't aware of, Heero looked at the ghost. "You will never be free. You are filled with hate. Duo will always be free because he acts from love and he's trying to protect and heal. This necklace he wears, it's from people who loved him. You should go and be with the people who love you and stop doing what only brings you pain."  
  
Doubt then flicked over the ghost's face. "Love. No one loves him! He's Death! Death! He said so himself!"  
  
"He is Duo Maxwell. He is loved." Heero reached out and took hold of the end of the cross, holding it up at the ghost. "Go away."  
  
It wasn't the words so much as the strength with which they were said, the conviction in him. The weight of his words carried deep. Duo relaxed in his arms, body soft and limp, head resting against Heero's shoulder.  
  
The ghost took a deep breath, watching them both. "I don't want to be dead," he whispered.  
  
"There are more things than we know," Heero said, as calm as if he were talking to Relena, advising her, "I didn't believe in ghosts, here you are. Wufei said once that we live again. Let go of this life, see if there is another one."  
  
The ghost lifted his head and sighed. "Why do you love him?"  
  
Heero was about to say he didn't, but couldn't bring himself to deny it. Then the ghost was gone and he stood there with the symbol of people loving Duo in his fingers and Duo in his arms. Ghost gone. Mission accomplished. He carried Duo away then. There was still the rest of the war to deal with. Then there might be time for other things. 


End file.
